“An eloquent argument for speaking even the most difficult truths.” —New York Times Book Review
Born in 1919 as the beneficiary of robber baron wealth, Paul Moore Jr. seemed destined for a life of comfortable privilege in New York's upper class. But a religious awakening during adolescence led him down a very different path, a path of service: first as a Marine Corps war hero and then as a young Episcopal priest working alongside his wife, Jenny - daughter of painter Margarett Sargent - with the urban poor of postwar America. Later, as a bishop, Moore, who counted luminaries such as Dorothy Day, Thurgood Marshall, and John F. Kennedy among his circle, displayed a commitment to fighting economic and racial injustice that reverberated throughout the highest circles of the American political and economic elite." The Bishop's Daughter is the story of this visionary man's rise to prominence and the story of Honor, the eldest of his nine children, and her coming-of-age as a poet in New York's literary scene. It is also a chronicle of her turbulent relationship with a father who struggled privately with his sexuality while she openly explored hers, and a searching account of the consequences of sexual secrets.
Honor Moore is the author of Our Revolution; The Bishop’s Daughter, a National Book Critics Circle Award finalist; The White Blackbird, a New York Times Notable Book; and three poetry collections. A professor at the New School, she lives in New York City.
I read Ms. Moore excerpt from the New Yorker and it did not make me want to read the book. However, a few weeks later there was a letter from her family denouncing her memoir and I’m sad to say that led me to pick it up.
I should have stuck with my gut.
I found it incredibly disturbing that she in the year 2008 is unable to use the word bisexuality till page 264 even though her main theme is that her father had male lovers. The writer, herself was a lesbian for ten years or so but claims it was due to “intimacy issues. Sweet Jesus. The book made me angry, not because I needed her to clearly label her sexuality for me---God forbid. I felt like I was stuck in an angry therapy journal of a woman who still saw herself as a child.
What I love about memoirs is that they can answer those nagging questions you have, like "I wonder what it's like to have a gay Episcopal bishop for a father?"
An excerpt in the New Yorker originally attracted me to this book because of the quality of Moore's description. That strength continues throughout. The first few chapters were a bit offputting because it felt like the kind of narcissistic attention that only other members of that family could appreciate. But, then, the larger than life character of the people who inhabit her story took over and I found it fascinating as well. Paul Moore, Honor Moore's father, became a priest, eventually rising to bishop, in the Episcopal Church, at an extraordinary time in history, in which he supported radical change in his religious and social community. He and his family benefitted from that situation and yet also paid an enormous toll.
This is the story of deep and powerful love, that of a daughter for her father, who she considers to have been a great man, and who was the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New York. Paul Moore was born to the eastern elite, male ancestors having attended Yale for generations back, and in part this memoir is fascinating simply for its insights into the life of that narrow slice of humanity. But Honor Moore's father, Paul, was a complex individual who chose the ministry rather than industry. He accomplished much in his long and fruitful life: wounded at Guadalcanal, established an inner city ministry in Jersey City, marched with Martin Luther King, Jr., bore witness in Mississippi, where the KKK attempted to intimidate him and the family he successfully protected, fathered nine children, and engaged in a variety of relationships with women and men, inside and outside of marriage, with people he cared for and respected.
Honor Moore is a poet known for her engagement with second wave feminism. She examines her father's life, also her mother's, and she identifies the places where his secret gay life tears into the fabric of their marriage. She, too, has carved her own path, rejecting marriage and motherhood, loving men, then women, then men again, she sees her father as a kindred spirit. Though they are close and share intimate personal details of their lives with each other, he is closeted, and she cannot tear away the walls he's constructed enough to trust and know him while he lives.
Though the author has fallen away from the church, she is well equipped to convey the meaning of his life as a priest and activist and is an excellent biographer. The theme of this memoir--about the truth of a father becoming known only after his death--brought to mind Reeve Lindbergh's book about her father, Charles Lindbergh, Under a Wing. Lindbergh was cold and, when he was at home, made the atmosphere uncomfortable. Paul Moore did his best to serve God and others. Though both men had big secrets, Moore continued to reach out to his daughter in love. Their stormy relationship led to periods of silent separation, but the warmth and family connection was never obliterated.
Like his daughter, I wish that Paul Moore were here today to witness the increased knowledge and understanding by the Episcopal Church and the rest of society about sexual orientation. As an influential activist Priest and Bishop, Moore was comfortable pushing the church into a political role that he thought expressed Jesus' concern for the poor. As a bisexual man, he lived with the fear of being exposed. In the end, Honor Moore shows us how her father's vulnerability might have motivated him towards ever greater compassion towards those who suffered from racism, poverty, war, and sexism. It is wonderful to learn about this man's life. I feel privileged to have read his daughter's sensitive portrayal of Moore's life and to learn about his influence on her own extraordinary life.
Honor Moore's prose goes both lavish and lean for a satisfyingly moving read.
The facts of her father's life begin to matter less than the deeply drawn portrait of a complex relationship. The God-likeness of the father who was also a Godly man, Bishop Moore, gives this story moments of universal interest. Anyone who held their church and its leaders in awe as a child can understand the struggle it takes to recognize those power figures as human. That is, I think, what made me read this book. That and Moore's amazing ability to narrate through the surreal images of young childhood, through the defining and eternally vivid memories of young adulthood, to the thoughtfully painted reflections of a mature person-hood.
Not many other writers could convince us to glimpse that inevitable time beyond our parent's lives, but Moore does and she makes that completion seem endurable, even transformative.
The first half was slow for me--too many details that I wasn't gripped by. I realize, though, that this is because I'd read about the book in advance and was waiting for more about the relationship between her and her father--and the revelation of her father's bisexuality (which, in a way, corresponded with her own . . . reminding me of Alison Bechdel's brilliant graphic memoir, Fun Home).
I was very moved by the second half--and then saw the whole book as a complicated homage to her father, as well as an important exploration of sexuality in relationship to religion.
Of course this is very complicated since she "outs" her father. He was a well-known New York Episcopal bishop who fathered 7 children and had been having sex surreptitiously with men for most of his life. Moore demonstrates what a toll this hidden life took on both her father and his family.
And yet she also points out how this hidden anguish made him in many ways more compassionate and progressive. I love that take because so often suppressed or hidden gayness is portrayed as turning someone into a homophobe. Instead, in the bishop's case--in addition to being harmful, it may have fostered a certain goodness in him. That's a very important story to tell.
Apparently, some of her siblings don't see it this way. Some are upset that she revealed this family secret (even though both their mother and father are dead). In the New Yorker, they write: "We wish that our sister Honor Moore had grappled, in her memoir of our father, Bishop Paul Moore, with the ethical dilemma of 'outing' a man whose public legacy is great, whose private life he chose to keep private, and whose personal agony often estranged him from many of us who loved him."
It makes me feel they didn't read the book. I think she does grapple with this throughout the memoir, especially toward the end. And yet, I can empathize with the fact that his adult children are very tender about it all. It's hard for those who lived through the stories you tell to recognize that everyone has a right to craft her own version of events. We own our lives and our subjectivity.
Being a writer and a memoirist, I think a lot about the ethics of "telling all." What seems to me crucial is to not tell all for the salacious sake of it, but to write well and deeply about our humanness. That is what Honor Moore has done.
Dear Departed Bishop Moore, thank you for taking the time to befriend me during some of the most confusing moments of my life, quite probably if this memoir's timeline is true, when its author was dragging you into dealing with the confusing bits of your own. Sheesh. Anyway, bits of our deep chats led me back to a relationship with Jesus. You were a good sheepdog in guiding this lost sheep back into the fold, and I know one day in God's eternal merciful presence, the complicated crap that forms the narrative of our lives will all make sense. I am looking forward to asking you lots of questions, Bish. But then again, does this all really matter?
While I didn't read every word of this book (I love to skip around and do what I call "reading like a librarian" just to get the gist of a book and read the important parts, including the beginning, middle and end), I was impressed at how thoughtful and loving the portrait of her father was. Sounds like they had some differences over the years, and his hidden homosexuality created some tensions as well. Honor Moore delves deeply into all of this without being catty or self absorbed.
As told by his daughter, poet Honor Moore, the story of the life of Episcopal Bishop of New York Paul Moore -- descended from an "old money" elite family who devoted himself to inner-city ministering and social justice organizing -- is spiced with a child's worship of her larger-than-life parent; a girl's struggles to construct a world of her own beyond the bounds of family; and a bisexual woman's anger and, finally, forgiveness of the secret gay life her father hid for decades.
This memoir chronicles Moore's father's struggles with homosexuality even as he was married to a woman & fathered 9 kids & even as he was bishop in a church which still viewed homosexuality as a sin. It makes us rejoice times have so changed so that growing up now & entering the church, he wouldn't have to have a secret love life. Moore is a poet & writes poetically, so all in all, it was a good read.
This seemed like a great comp title for my own memoir (though my father wasn't bisexual, just a bit of a rolling stone, if you will), but it didn't really go deep into the narrative, which I'm finding I really like in memoirs. By that I mean, it didn't read like a true novel, it read like a biography, like the author was telling me about all these things instead of showing them to me. It felt a little bit dull, and I think that was because the author didn't really do scenes or anything, just told us what happened.
It took me a month to get through this book, even when the World is suffering from a pandemic, and there’s nothing else to do. I kept picking up other books when I got bored with this one. Finally finished and I have to tell you that this is a sad story. I felt very sad during the whole book but especially for the daughter. So glad that I did not come of age during the Vietnam, Womens lib era. Overall, depressing, boring and a bit self-serving.
Gorgeous, deeply searching and intimate, transformative. The “Wayfarer” chapter in the second half is one of the most astonishing pieces of memoir I’ve ever read. It made me cry, even on re-readings, and smile, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Moore is a poet who grew up in large family (oldest of 9) , and her father was an Episcopalian priest and later Bishop. Bishop Moore was active in social justice including marching in the civil rights movement. He also struggled with being married to a woman but having gay love affairs through his life, something that came out later in his life when Honor was an adult.
Moore also explores her own sexuality, taking a 10-year detour into relationships with women before "returning to men." I thought this book was really interesting mainly because it's about people so different than me. I don't know much about the Episcopalian/Anglican church, so that part was interesting. I also find Honor Moore's experience of sexuality to be so unusual from most LGBTQ folks I know. She was a "political lesbian" in a way as part of the second wave feminist movement. I find the idea that she decides dating women is "something in her past" and she is "returning to men" to be a weird one. Nevertheless, this was beautifully written, as you would expect from a poet, and deeply moving. Relationships with her parents weren't smooth, but they were deep and loving. I recommend the book to anyone who enjoys memoir and biography.
A number of years ago I read Michael Cunningham's novel Flesh & Blood, a family saga spanning decades. I made a gift or recommended that book to numerous friends. The Bishop's Daughter is also a family saga - though a decidedly different, uniquely individual family. What the two volumes have in common is that they are thoroughly, painfully honest, articulated chronicles of the emotional peaks and valleys of an American family.
At the heart of this masterful work is the relationship of a daughter, eldest of nine siblings and a bigger than life father. Paul Moore was a prince of the Episcopal Church, Bishop of New York and pastor of the Cathedral of Saint John the Devine. Though he came from affluence, he became an activist priest, championing the rights of the poor and disenfranchised, fighting for racial equality and marching with Martin Luther King, Jr. He was important to the LGBT community because he ordained women to the priesthood (openly lesbian women), and passionately preached for acceptance, love and understanding during the worst of the plague years. We also learn that the Bishop was a deeply closeted self loathing homosexual.
Ms. Moore masterfully communicates her own personal story. What she has created is a rich historical document of an era, a family, and a father/daughter relationship based too often on half-truths and deception. In her quest to better understand her father's often aloof emotional nature, she incrementally collects and assembles the fragments of his hidden erotic life until she is finally able to reconcile and bring them together to create an accurate and representational portrait of her father. It is through this process that the author achieves catharsis, and is able to reaffirm her love for him.
There are far too many details and story strands presented in this volume for me to describe here. Ms. Moore's The Bishop's Daughter is a treasure of memories and a memoir to treasure. Buy it, or get thee to a library.
Perhaps this is more evidence of the over-saturation of the memoir genre. I might have preferred a biography on the author's father, the late Paul Moor, who served as Episcopal Bishop of the New York diocese from 1972-1989. While her father ascended the ranks of the Episcopal church, he gained national recognition during the 1950's and '60's for his success at involving the church in liberal social outreach. Honor was the first of nine children, and bemoans the lack of individual attention she recieved from her parents (Honor's mother was very active outside the home). But what really threw her off was her discovery, after her father's death, of his homosexual affairs throughout his married life to her mother as well as during his second marriage; interestingly, she makes little of his extramarital heterosexual affairs. With frequent references to her therapy, Honor reveals how she struggled to comes to terms with her father's duplicity; fair enough. She also reveals, in too much detail for my taste, her own sexual history and tries to connect her sexual identity confusion to her father's. Amazingly, she faults her father for refusing to share with her the most intimate details of his own sexual experiences. I took no voyeuristic pleasure in Honor's revelations about her father's sexual history; although, I found the accounts of his generous ministry to the poor, black inner-city community to be fascinating and inspiring. Overall, a self-indulgent account that read more like a personal journal (or even "therapy notes") than a worthy memoir.
I read this after reading a sample chapter in The New Yorker - I'm so glad I took the time to read the whole book.
There's so much going on in this biography - explorations of faith, sexuality, family, poverty, wealth, geography . . . more than I can sum up. I enjoyed Moore's prose, the sparse elegance of her language, and the insights the book offered into her life as well of that of her father. there are some astonishingly powerful insights in the text, not least of which being the sermon her father gave on a day when he thought his (kept secret from his family) boyfriend had died of AIDS.
I'm fascinated by the ways in which people hold onto faith even when the religious structures around them throw obstacles in their path - in this instance a struggle over the ordination of women, the drift of the church away from inner-city service, Moore's father's struggle to be a married man who also loved men, his support of the ordination of gay and lesbian priests. Bishop Moore's faith seems very English to me - cerebral, intellectual, polite, but steady - and it was fascinating to learn from him, as both positive and negative example, throughout.
This memoir kept my attention for a only bit -- ultimately, the author's reflections about herself felt shallow and her name-dropping was distracting. Far more interesting, though, were the author's mother and father (an Episcopal priest then bishop and his grand, "can-do" helpmate). They were troubled people - perhaps simply products of their backgrounds and upbringings, the times or their genders. (Why is it that troubled people of privilege keep having children?) The sensational part of the story was so hyped in the press that it did not seem that shocking (especially in light of contemporary clerical missteps). I recommend that others give this memoir a chance but maybe skim over the self-serving parts.
I had no idea who this woman was nor did I really care for about 60 pages. Then I enjoyed reading about her life and her complicated life with her father. She seemed to be protecting her father and his desire to keep his homosexuality hidden. To the point that the memoir doesn't dig really deep. Very strange how a man could have 9 children and have a secret life as well! He was the bishop of (I think) St John Divine on the upper west side at a time when many were dying of aides. It would have been interesting to really delve into this period of time. Good black and white photos throughout that move the story ahead.
Such a beautiful, twisted, conflicted book, written by a woman looking back on her father's life and marriage, with childhood memories co-mingling with growing awareness as she ages. Paul Moore rose through the ranks of the Episcopal Church, married a woman he loved, had nine children, but was tormented by his hidden bisexuality. The author, his oldest child, and also bisexual, was overwhelmed by her father's godliness, his perfection, and his power but was often confused by the outward signs that all was not right between her parents. The memories, the questions, the therapy, the reconciliation, and the peace brought by death are explored. Hard to put down.
Honor Moore's memoir of life in the orbit of her father, an Episcopal priest who eventually became Bishop of New York. He played a prominent role in the civil rights and the gay rights movements.
The big story was his lifelong, hidden sexual involvement with men. The memoir delves into the ambiguous sexuality not just of Paul Moore but of Honor -- and all their partners.
In the end, not so interesting. The feminist consciousness raising of the 60s and 70s; the literary life awirling around Harvard; the wealth and privelege of the Moore family; all the sessions with their analysts -- I became impatient with the deep discontent of these priveleged people.
I was lucky enough to take a literature class on the uses of memory in nonfiction and fiction taught by Honor Moore in spring 2009, and finally got around to reading her memoir. This book is an unflinching study of how faith, family and sexuality intersect. Honor is the daughter of the late Paul Moore, who became bishop of New York and was later revealed to have had same-sex relationships throughout his life, though married with many children. The book follows both of Moores' life histories, and delves deeply into their relationships, both physical and spiritual, as well as the emotional fallout of such life-changing secrets being revealed. I was very moved by this book.
This is a fascinating story about a complex family, and Honor Moore's writing is finely tuned and compelling. I love learning about the history of nineteenth and twentieth century America, as Moore weaves together her family’s story with national and world events. Paul Moore was the grandchild of powerful scions in business and industry, and in his life as a priest he rubbed shoulders with theologians like Reinhold Neibuhr. He and his wife Jenny pioneered a new kind of ministry within mainstream churches, living out a theology that included the urban poor. Honor has done lots of in depth work to make meaning of this family, her father and her relationship with him.
This is a disturbing book on several levels. Written by Honor Moore, a woman of inherited wealth who has spent a large part of her life trying to get her father's love and attention. In a rather twisted way, she has outed this remarkable (but also sexually troubled) Bishop of the Episcopal Church. I was troubled by her minute psychanalysis of each experience and conversation, and especially the imagined ones! However, I didn't put the book down. Sorry about the sorry cliche, but I guess it was like watching a train wreck.
I thought this book would be more about bishop Paul Moore than about the author; however, I would say the bishop is definately a secondary character to the author. While it was interesting to read an account of the civil changes that occurred during the 60s, I felt like the author could have done more to point out how uniquely progressive her father was. Also, there was constant reference to her father's struggles with his sexuality. However, when this characteristic is finally addressed at the end of the book, it really did not add to my understanding of Paul Moore.
When I saw that this won The Big Lambda I picked it up immediately. I put it back down almost as quickly. Because it was really, really boring. [Author:Nancy Pearl] has this formula where the number of pages you should give a book before you quit it is 100 - (your age). Working backwards from this formula, if we were calculating my age only from my experience with The Bishop's Daughter, I am 50 years old.